Service
by Rinkitink
Summary: My second attempt at writing fanfic, and more of an alternate universe than my first. Justin/Dean slash.


(I don't own these characters, blah blah blah. Some very explicit slash here.)

"Mistah Russo? Hey, MISTAH Russo! You okay?"

Justin felt a hand brush up against his cheek, then grab his jaw and move his head from side to side. It carried the unmistakable, rough touch of concern. _Where am I?_ the wizard thought, his eyes closed. As the question bubbled up through a swelling headache, Justin heard the voice again, a strong male voice yelling out.

"Hey, Jerves! Mistah Russo's blacked out. Git in 'eah quick!"

Justin slowly opened his eyes, but the low lighting made it difficult to see anything. As his murky vision coalesced into recognizable shapes, Justin turned his head and realized that he was looking up from the floor at someone looming over him. The figure wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a short-sleeved shirt in a distinctive shade of gunmetal grey. His hair parted in the middle and hung down on either side of an angular face. Still a bit disoriented, although clueless as to why, Justin glanced over the figure's clothing until his eyes fell upon a name tag above the shirt's pocket: _Chad_.

"Chhhaaad," Justin whispered mindlessly.

"Wha?" the figure said. It was clearly the man who had been yelling before. "Mistah Russo, my name is not Chad. My name is Dean. But ya usually call me Mistah Moriarti."

Justin's eyes grew wide. _Dean Moriarti? Alex's Dean? Didn't he—_

"Shocked, but nice ta see ya's not hurt," Dean said with a winning smile, which quickly turned to a slight frown as he bent down and looked the wizard in the eye. As he stared back, two more thoughts bubbled up through the muck in Justin's head: _I must have passed out. And he thinks I'm going to pass out again_. Justin cracked a smile, or at least tried to. It was all he could muster. Satisfied, Dean gave a brief nod, smiled again and extended his hand. "Need a lift?"

Still too disoriented to really process the gesture, Justin reached out automatically and grabbed Dean's hand with his own. Dean pulled Justin up from the floor with surprising ease, only to grab the wizard again when he nearly toppled over again from vertigo. "Whoa, whoa, careful Mistah Russo, careful," Dean whispered as he snaked his arm around Justin's back. "Ya don' wanna fall again, do ya?" Grasping onto Dean's forearm and bracing himself against his frame, Justin glanced around the room for the first time. It was some sort of simple but elegant parlor, oval in shape, with light grey walls that climbed about fifteen feet up to a vaulted ceiling. The recessed bulbs there were dim, but Justin could barely make out the white crown molding that joined the walls to the ceiling. Below, the room had three plush sofas with grey and light blue stripes, all haphazardly surrounding a circular glass and pewter coffee in the middle of the space. Still grabbing onto Dean with his right hand, Justin unconsciously ran his left through his jet-black hair as he surveyed the objects on the table. A deep purple vase at the center featured a single lilac orchid, and a few magazines fanned out like a winning hand of playing cards rested in front of the smallest of the sofas. A stack of four glass coasters fit snuggly next to the vase. Justin looked beyond the table and sofas through oversized windows onto a garden outside, lighted for the evening with bursts bright white against the dense green foliage. He turned back to Dean, who was looking at him quizzically.

"Dean, you look, uh," Justin stammered. Words were still hard. "Older." And he did. As Justin scanned his face, he could see that Dean definitely looked at least a few years older than when Justin had last seen him—although, the wizard was having a difficult time remembering that rather elusive moment. Dean laughed a little and smiled again. "Mistah Russo, the last time I checked, I was no older than I yam. Now, uh, do ya think you can stand on ya own?"

Before Justin could croak out an answer, Jerry ran into the room from an open archway next to the windows, a look of concern on his red face. He rushed up to Justin and grabbed his free hand.

"A thousand apologies, Mr. Russo, I came as fast as I could when I heard Mr. Moriarti's call," Jerry expelled. "But then Ms. Alex pulled in front of me with the car as one of her little jokes, and, you see, I was outside skimming your pool because Mr. Beakerman has today off, as it is his mother's birthday, you remember, and I could not get to it before this hour, and the car is very long and—well, what I really mean to say is, are you all right?" Jerry looked Justin in the eye, and then glanced around the wizard's face for visible signs of trauma, and then looked him in the eye again. He put his hand on Justin's shoulder.

"Dad, I'm fine," Justin said groggily. "Where are we? Where's mom?" Only then did Justin notice that Dean was still holding him upright, because all of Dean's muscles tensed.

"Oh my heavens," Jerry sputtered. "Oh my heavens oh my heavens! Mr. Russo, I apologize, but I am not your father. Perhaps you hit your head harder than we thought." He turned his attention to Dean. "Mr. Moriarti, how did you discover him?"

"I was commin' in from grabbin' the mail and I just found him all spread out on the tile in 'ere," Dean explained. "He asked me to start grabbin' the mail when I come in on Monday nights. I didn' notice no blood or nothin', and so's I called out his name and shook 'im a little and he came to. Easy." Dean smiled. Jerry pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes.

"Dad, what do you mean you're not my dad?" Justin asked, a bit of panic in his voice. "And where are we?"

"Mr. Russo," Jerry responded slowly, turning away from Dean and slipping into a more professional tone, "we are currently in your home, but I am not your father." He paused to let the news sink in, and Justin noticed for the first time that his father was wearing a tight-fitting tuxedo. "My name is Jerves, and I am your butler. This is Mr. Moriarti." He gestured to Dean. "He…uh…well, I suppose he gets your mail now. I have never met your father before, sir, and before today you never mentioned him to me. Now, would you like me to call a doctor? I believe that might be a good idea."

_My butler?_ Something broke inside Justin's head, suddenly jolting his attention inward. A memory. His birthday party. Cake, candles. Upbeat music. His mom, accidentally burning the enchiladas. Harper's laugh. Alex, claiming that she had the best birthday present ever. A spell for a complete day of rest. _The perfect life_, she had said, _for twenty-four relaxing hours_. Chanting. Lights. A look of surprise of Jerry's face. Then nothing—darkness. Then the headache, the room, Dean.

"Mistah Russo?" Justin snapped back to reality and looked at Dean again, blankly. "Look, Mistah Russo, ya much bigga than I yam," Dean said sheepishly, "and I dunno how much longer I kin hold ya like this."

Justin looked at Jerry again. "No, no doctor," he mumbled. "I'll be fine. You just kinda, uh, look like my dad used to look. That's all. The light's low in here, you know." Justin took his weight off of Dean's frame, let go of his hand and stood on his own for a moment. The vertigo had passed completely, but his head still hammered. _This is Alex's spell_, he thought, _and it went completely wrong as usual. Only Alex could send you to a world of perfect comforts with a splitting headache_.

"That's comforting to know, sir," Jerry said. "I'm sure your father was a good man. You are in charge here, and you know what it best for you, of course, but if you feel as though you do need a doctor at any point, I will summon one for you immediately. Please do not hesitate a moment to ask me, sir. You will ask me, won't you?"

"Thanks da—I mean, Jerves," Justin stammered. "Jerves. Yes. I'll let you know." Jerry nodded and exited though an open archway on the other side of the room.

"Ay, that guy is so eaga' to please, you know?" Dean said after Jerry had left. He looked Justin in the eye. "Sometimes I dunno how you put up with his muggin' Mistah Russo, if I do say so myself."

"Oh, I'm sure he is very helpful," Justin replied, waving his hand in a mindless, circular motion. He looked down and noticed that he was dressed in pale grey loungewear, billowing sheer pajama bottoms and a loose fitting tunic shirt almost the same color as the walls. _I must really like this color_, he thought. "What time is it, Dean?"

"Dean, now? Alright, if that's what ya want," said Dean. "It's about quartah ta eight, Mistah Russo."

_So late_, Justin thought. _What an odd hour to start this thing off, but, then again, it was Alex_. "Dean, could you please take me to my bedroom?" Justin asked. "I think I need to lay down for a while."

Dean smiled. "I'd be happy ta, Mistah Russo. I was hopin' you would ask. This way." He gestured toward the same archway that Jerry had exited through only a few moments before and turned to face it, but then paused and turned back to Justin. "Can ya walk on ya own, or do ya need me to hold ya again?"

No, no," responded Justin, "I'll be fine. Just lead the way please." He followed Dean through the archway and into what looked like a central hall. Justin paused briefly to soak it in. A massive, wooden front door with ornate geometrical carvings dominated the room, and the floor featured a large checkerboard pattern in the same light blue and grey combination that Justin had seen on the sofas. _This must all be custom made for me_, he thought. There was little else in the room besides a narrow pewter and glass table against one wall and a potted bamboo plant in the corner next to the door. Some somber art hung in silver frames on the walls, but the lighting was too low again to make out their abstract patterns clearly. As Justin pondered how his taste for austere grey might have developed, Dean popped his head out of another archway off to the wizard's left: "Betta keep up with me, Mistah Russo, or you're gonna get lost. I certainly did for the first few weeks!"

"Coming!" yelled Justin before hurrying through the doorway. It was only after he had passed under the archway that the peculiarity of that sentence hit him. _Does Dean work for me too?_ he thought. But there was no time to ponder the question at length, as Dean proceeded to lead the wizard though a bewildering labyrinth of grey hallways and pewter-flanked sitting rooms. The sights and the last tendrils of the headache made it difficult to concentrate on anything else. Finally, they arrived at an alcove that featured a door almost as large as the one that Justin had seen in the central hall.

"Your bedroom, Mistah Russo," said Dean as he turned the knob and pushed open the door. It swung in a surprisingly smooth fashion for a door so large. The bedroom beyond was visually dominated by a king-sized poster bed jutting out from the east wall, and Justin couldn't help but notice the pewter posts and light blue comforter (again with that combination!). Large bookshelves of thick glass that held scores of books and knick-knacks were opposite the bed, and a small recliner with a side table and lamp sat in a far corner. More art of the same muted variety as in the hall adorned the walls here, although it was the large piece hanging over the bed that caught Justin's eye. He moved into the room to get a better look at it. This one had deep purples and blue swirls in it that looked like magic. _Does magic even exist here?_ he thought.

"Thanks, uh, Dean, for getting me here," Justin said as he turned away from the painting. Only then did he notice that Dean had closed the door to the bedroom and was staring at the wizard. It was vaguely unsettling. "I think I can take it from here."

"Does that mean ya won' be needin' my help tonight, Mistah Russo?" For the first time, Justin thought he detected a slight air of anger in Dean's voice. "It's Monday, ya know, and it might be just the thing ya need after that fall."

"What do you mean by help?" Justin asked, taking a slight step back. Something was off.

"You know," said Dean as he walked over to the wizard, "_my_ help." He looked at Justin and furrowed his brow. "I give ya special help." Justin looked back blankly, which seemed to agitate Dean even more. "Geez, Mistah Russo, did ya really hit ya head that hard? We've had this little arrangement for almost a year now."

"What arrangement?" Justin asked again.

"I, uh…well, how do I say…I guess you could say that service ya," Dean said flatly as he looked Justin in the eye. "And I'm pretty good at it too." He smirked and crossed his arms.

A wave of relief washed through Justin. "Oh, you work on my cars!" Justin exclaimed. "Look Dean, I know that you're good with cars and all, and I'm sorry that you came over so late to work on them, but I'm pretty sure that can wait until tomorrow. Anyway, didn't dad—Jerves!—say something about Alex pulling round the car earlier? I'm sure that with whatever's going on with the cars in this place, she has it covered, so why don't you…uh, why are you smiling?"

Dean was, in fact, smiling at Justin. It communicated equal parts pity and joy, as if Dean felt sorry for Justin because he wasn't privy to some joke. He put his hand on Justin's shoulder. "Mistah Russo, please listen to me carefully. I haven' touched a car engine since high school. When I say that I service ya, I mean just that. I service _you_."

"Like Jerves?" Justin squeeked. Something wasn't adding up.

"No, not like 'im," Dean responded while waving his other hand. He seemed frustrated. "Look, lemme spell in out for ya. On Monday nights I come in 'bout this time. We come here to the bedroom and I suck ya cock. Sometimes we chat, yeah, but most of the time it's just business. In times a stress ya have me come in more often…three, four times a week. In return, ya pay me a nice salary, and I live in ya guest house." Dean paused and looked up at the ceiling as though he was searching for some forgotten detail. After a moment, and apparently satisfied that he had included everything, he looked at Justin again. "And that's what I mean when I say that I service ya. I'm kinda what they call a kept man. Sounds fancy, huh?" He smiled a little half smile, trying to erase some of his previous anger.

Justin didn't know what to say. After nearly four years of wizard training, he had begun to fancy himself as someone difficult to shock. He'd seen more mishaps and oddities than probably anyone, but nothing could have prepared him for Dean…like this. Justin groped behind himself for the bed and sat down on it in silence, staring back blankly at his servant. Dean's half smile was slowly turning into a jagged line of unease. Justin's thoughts came slowly. _What. Has. Alex. Done? Whatkindofgiftisthis? _He reached up and absentmindedly ran his left hand through his hair again, trying to make sense of things. _Her ex-boyfriend as a gigolo? MY gigolo? Is this supposed to be funny?_ And then another thought came, immediately, like a lens clicking all the rest into crystal clarity. _This is all wrong. She must have messed up the spell somehow. That would explain why it's so late, and the two repeating colors, and…Dean. Like this._

"Mistah Russo, say somethin'," Dean pleaded. The silence was making him uncomfortable. After a moment, and still too shocked to stand, Justin said the only thing he could think to say.

"Why, uh, why you…Dean? I mean, how…how did you end up…doing this?" Justin placed his hand on his knee and leaned back on the bed to feign normalcy. _What else can I do?_

"Why me?" Dean scoffed. "That's a question for righ' now if I evah heard one. Ya never asked me before about that." He sighed. "Long story short, I left New York aftah I graduated, thought I'd make it out in Hollywood as an actah, got a few small bits on some things, commercials and things, but it didn' work out so much in the end. So I came back 'ere to New York, and one of ya guys approached me at a club this one night, said he'd heard about me from a guy back in L.A., said that ya were lookin' for someone, and that it included a place to stay and some regular cash. I was stayin' on a friend's couch at the time, and I didn't have two bucks to my name. So I took the job." Dean coughed a little into his right hand.

"But why this job?" Justin's mind was still reeling at the absurdity of it all.

"Mistah Russo, how do you think I got those commercials in L.A.?" Even this version of Dean had a way with blunt statements. "It's just a thing I do ta get by. I just happen ta be good at it."

Justin swallowed hard. This really was happening, and he didn't know when it would end. "Am I, uh, am I gay, Dean?" he asked. It seemed like a good question, given the circumstances.

"Uh, I dunno Mistah Russo," Dean said as his half smile returned. His mood seemed to improve slightly now that the attention was off of him. "If ya are ya never told me. I mean, ya don't touch me or nothin' during our sessions, if that's what ya mean. It's all one way. Are ya sure ya don't want to see a doctor?"

"Ah, I see," said Justin, as if getting off at the hands of your sister's ex-boyfriend were a regular piece of polite conversation. Although he couldn't believe the things Dean was saying (or, for that matter, the room in which they talked, or the house at all), Justin now realized that reacting badly would only make people in this dream world think that he had seriously injured himself in the fall. He needed to play it as cool as possible. The only thing more awkward than this conversation would be to spend the duration of the spell in a psych ward.

"No doctors, Dean, but one more question," said Justin, sounding surprisingly calm. Dean looked at him with an eager anticipation, knowing that their conversation was coming to a merciful end. "Why didn't I hire a girl to do this?"

"Ah, Mistah Russo, that's easy," said Dean with a little chuckle. "Ya told me a long time ago that most girls don' even know what they'ah doin' when it comes to 'ead. And ya said that the ones that _do_ know don' really care. They don' _know_, I think is how ya put it. Ya payin' good money for this service, and ya wanna good return on that, and like I said, I'm the best around." He shrugged his shoulders "I don' know why. I guess guys know what guys like, ya know? Now how 'bout you recline on that bed while I set the lights like you like 'em."

Justin noticed that he was still sitting on the bed with Dean towering over him. "No, Dean, I don't think I'll need you to—"

"Look Mistah Russo, lemme be square," said Dean, no longer smiling. His face had darkened almost immediately. "Are you thinkin' 'bout firin' me?"

Justin was dumbfounded. The question seemed out of left field. "Ah…no…Dean, no, I wasn't. Why would you think that?"

"Well…ya didn' want me in last week…or the week before that," Dean said slowly. "Like I said, sometimes ya used to have me in four times a week, and now three weeks inna row where ya send me away? So I figure that maybe you don' want my services any moah, and I should be askin' that old friend if his couch is open, I guess." Dean looked down at Justin fiercely, a mixture of indignation and worry. Justin tried to fabricate an explanation that might satisfy Dean without sounding completely insane, but his mind was grasping at nothing. He had never been a very convincing liar, especially in alternate universes. After a moment of silence between the two, a coldness that Justin couldn't read flickered across Dean's face. He shrugged, turned, and walked toward the door. "Gosh, that mustah been a nasty fall for ya not to remember all these things," Dean said as he crossed the room. "Maybe I should call up Jerves so that 'ell git ya doctor on the phone." He turned his head and looked back at Justin with one eye. "'Cause if ya thinkin' about gettin' rid a me, Mistah Russo, it's the last kindness I should do for ya, ya know."

Justin detected the malevolence in Dean's voice, but it took him a second to understand it. _Blackmail_, the wizard thought as he sat up. _He knows that I'm fuzzy about what's going on, and he thinks he can use it as a bargaining chip to keep me from firing him. If only he knew that I don't even remember hiring him!_ An image of a psychiatric examiner's office crossed his mind.

"No, Dean, Dean, it's okay, it's okay," Justin said as he stood up from the bed. Dean turned away from the door to face him, a look of triumph on his face. "We can do it. It's fine. It's...yah, it's fine."

Dean's demeanor seemed to improve immediately, like a man given a second chance at life—which, in a way, he believed to be true. "Great!" he said. "Lemme go set the lights. You just lay back on the bed." He walked briskly across the room to a panel on the far wall and started fiddling with some knobs. "Ya won' regret it, Mistah Russo. I'll make it extra good tonight," he said, almost to reassure himself more than Justin.

Justin sank back down onto the bed, his legs hanging over the right side. _Well, it could be worse_, he thought as he mindlessly traced the folds in the blue comforter around his hands. _I could like S&M_. The truth was, Justin didn't really know _what_ he liked at all, and that, he pondered, was perhaps the real source of his present anxiety—as well as a burning curiosity that was just barely beginning to well up inside of him. After all, he had never gone beyond first base with Juliet when they were together. The house was so busy that he hardly ever had the opportunity to jerk off. No one else had ever touched him down there…let alone with tongue. And now here was Dean, Alex's Dean, getting ready to give him his first blowjob, and he honestly didn't have a say in the matter. As weird as it seemed—and it was _very_ weird—Justin also found himself a little excited. _So why not enjoy it?_ he thought. _That's what guys my age do. They get blowjobs and like them. It's normal._ He picked at a piece of fuzz on the bed and breathed in heavily. _So that's what I'm going to do too. Even if it is from Dean_.

"Ready, Mistah Russo?"

Justin looked up from the comforter through the now dim lights to see Dean standing over him again. He still had on the pair of jeans, but his shirt was off. Justin thought back but couldn't remember ever seeing Dean without a shirt on before. He had a swimmer's build with just the faintest abs outlined under golden brown skin. Justin shot Dean a look of confusion.

"Don' worry, I told ya, Mistah Russo, it's only one way. I take my shirt off sos to not get any mess on it. Ya tend ta spray a lot, if ya remember."

Justin didn't, but he could gather from Dean's expression that it was a fact. "So, uh, what now Dean?" He was propped up on his elbows.

"First, we git ya pants off." Before Justin know what was going on, Dean reached down to the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms and deftly untied the knot on the inside. Justin balked as Dean's hand brushed against his skin only a few inches above his dick. Dean laughed a little.

"Mistah Russo, this is a weird night, I admit, and I dunno exactly what's goin' on with you, but you're gonna have ta be a lot less bashful than that if you hope ta enjoy this." And with that, he gripped the elastic of Justin's pajamas and boxer briefs and pulled them down to his ankles.

Justin felt the unmistakable rush of cool air on his balls, which somehow felt colder now that someone else was in the room to observe them. Still reclined on the bed with his legs over the edge, he looked down the length of his chest to his groin. He knew what he would see (he had seen it thousands of times before, after all), but he wanted to know what it was like to see Dean seeing it. Now that he was kneeling on the ground, Dean's angular face was only a few inches from Justin's flaccid dick. He was staring at it intently. Justin was a modest size by all accounts, although it would be a few years before he had enough understanding to render that judgment himself. His dick—not particularly thick or thin—was slightly darker than the rest of his ivory skin, as if ivory could be baked into a sandy cream. The head was darker still at a blush of tan, with a light purple rim the same color as a bruise. Dean licked his lips. Justin's balls were nearly brown and hung low at the present angle, covered with a tangle of black pubic hair that also ran down the inside of his legs and up to the skin below his navel. Justin's milky shaft rested on this thicket of hair, making it stand out in the dim light.

"There it is," Dean said, "just like I left it." He turned his attention to Justin's face and smiled a toothy grin. Justin smiled back in something of a daze. Still locking eyes with Justin, Dean leaned forward and exhaled a few hot breaths onto Justin's dick, which quivered involuntarily. The shock of it made Justin draw in his breath sharply and tense his abs.

"It's alright, Mistah Russo. Just sit back and let me do this."

Justin did as he was told, taking the weight off of his elbows and allowing his arms to rest above him on the bed. As he laid his head down and closed his eyes, Dean reached up to push the bottom of Justin's t-shirt up toward his pecs. "Don' want ya ta get any mess neither," Dean said.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, Justin felt Dean's right hand close around his dick. The wizard drew in another sharp puff of breath and muffled a squeal, and then Dean started to stroke up with his enclosed palm. Justin's dick rapidly engorged as Dean's fist slowing started bobbing up and down on it. It really felt quite different, having someone else do it for you. Dean started pumping his fist a bit faster, pulling Justin's dick perpendicular to his body and rotating his enclosed hand back and forth so that the folds of his fingers rubbed every inch of it. A flash of heat rolled through Justin's body. Breathing heavily, and feeling beads of sweat begin to well up in his armpits, Justin looked down the length of his chest and caught a glimpse of the head of his dick disappearing into Dean's fist. A second later it emerged again as Dean slid his fist back down, smearing a trail of pre-cum along the right side of the shaft. Dean looked away for a second and caught Justin's eye. He paused his stroking.

"See, told ya you was messy." Dean smiled. "Necessary evil. Is it good for ya, Mistah Russo?"

Justin was too overwhelmed by the heat in his groin to respond. He nodded faintly.

"Good," said Dean. "Then I'm gonna put it in my mouth."

Before Justin could process the statement, Dean leaned forward and swiftly took Justin's left testicle in his mouth. Justin whimpered as he watched his ball disappear between Dean's lips, feeling the sudden, wet warmth of his servant's mouth surrounding it. He flat out moaned when he felt Dean begin to suck and caress the underside of it with his tongue. Dean started stroking Justin's dick again while continuing to suck, gently tugging down on Justin's ballsack with his mouth in the process. Justin let his head fall back on the bed again, his face contorting into an expression of soundless ecstasy as the overload of pleasures took hold of him. Still stroking, Dean released Justin's left testicle from his mouth and began sucking on the right one. Justin could feel the hot breath from Dean's nose on the base of his dick as he continued to suck and tug, and in a daze the wizard looked down the length of his chest again to confirm that everything he felt was really happening. Catching Justin's glance, Dean released his right testicle, adjusted his weight, leaned forward and began licking around the hairy base of Justin's dick without ever breaking eye contact. Justin was mesmerized by both the sight and feeling of it. After a few moments Dean opened the fist that held Justin's erection, used his palm to angle it away from Justin's stomach, and started to lick up and down the length of the wizard's shaft. The friction of Dean's tongue and the strain of having his dick pulled back caused Justin to gasp as he oozed out a few more beads of precum. Dean saw them immediately and licked all the way up Justin's shaft. The wizard shuddered a little as Dean drew his tongue across the slit in his head and eagerly lapped up the clear trickle.

"Ya been eatin' pineapple again, Mistah Russo," Dean remarked as he pulled back and swallowed, letting go of Justin's dick and allowing it snap back against his stomach in the process. "It's sweetah this time."

Fully given over to the experience now, Justin could think of nothing else to do but smile back and nod. "And I've got more where that came from, Dean," he said meekly. It was fun to be a little dirty.

"Oh, I know ya do, Mistah Russo," said Dean as he smiled again. The time had come for the main event. Dean gripped the base of Justin's dick with his left hand, angled it away from Justin's stomach again, and then leaned forward as the pink lips of his smile turned into a tiny O. Ever so carefully, he placed them around the head of Justin's dick. The simultaneous feeling of the cold room on his shaft and Dean's warm mouth on his head made the wizard spasm again in pleasure. He laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. After the shudder passed, Dean placed a hand on either side of Justin's thighs, propped himself up at a higher angle, and slowly slid his mouth down the entirety of Justin's dick until his nose was buried in the wizard's pubic hair.

At first it was unlike any sensation that Justin had ever experienced before; it was like his entire body had slipped into a peaceful, warm glove. Then Justin cried out as Dean's tongue wrapped tightly around the underside of his shaft, straining to flick at the point where it joined the rest of his body at the base. He could feel all of the messy, unseen depths of Dean curling around his dick, squeezing and rubbing it with an amazing deftness. As Dean pulled back up for air, retracing the contours of Justin's dick with his lips, the wizard felt a familiar tightness in his groin. After all of the foreplay, this session was not going to last much longer. Dean, oblivious to the feeling, made it up to the lip of the head before diving back down to swallow Justin again, and another amazing wave of pleasure radiated throughout Justin's body. In its aftermath the wizard managed to bring his right hand away from the comforter and brushed it lightly on Dean's head. It was a feeble warning.

Dean felt Justin's hand and immediately pulled back off of his dick. "Oh, you wanna face fuck me again, Mistah Russo?" He smiled as he began pawing at Justin's tightening ballsack. Dean certainly was relishing this opportunity to prove himself in the eyes of his employer. Justin shot Dean a weary, confused look. "No, Dean, I think I'm—"

"I want ya ta grip my head in ya hands and fuck the shit outta my mouth with ya cock," Dean said bluntly. "Now."

Before Justin could muster a protest, Dean wrapped his lips around the head of Justin's dick again and waited. The momentary confusion had caused the tightness in Justin's groin to dissipate, and Dean's mouth felt so good and warm that without really thinking Justin reached out both hands, gripped either side of Dean's head, and slowly pushed his waiting mouth down onto his dick. This time it felt like all of him was siphoning though a perfect keyhole to some fantastic place beyond. Dean gagged a little as his lips approached the base of Justin's dick, but when Justin tried to pull back in worry, Dean willfully pushed his mouth back down until his lips were forcibly coiled around the base. The wizard spasmed with pleasure, and he could feel the tightness welling up again. There was no going back now. Like an animal Justin gripped Dean's head and shoved his dick deep inside of his servant's mouth, rhythmically pumping his waist up from the comforter and moaning as the tightness increased. The strands of Dean's hair that typically fell to either side of his forehead were now bouncing off his sweaty brow. While Justin pumped over and over, Dean shifted his hands and gripped Justin's ass as if to push Justin's dick deeper down his throat with each thrust. Justin could see that Dean's eyes were watering from the effort, but he didn't care. What mattered now was the tightness, which was quickly coming to a breaking point.

"Dean, I'm gonna come!" Justin gasped with a final thrust into Dean's mouth. He let his hands and head fall back onto the bed and involuntarily arched his hips and torso up. Dean, still tightly gripping the globes of Justin's ass, swallowed down the entirety of his dick as the dam finally broke. Justin groaned as he let a thick torrent of cum spray into Dean's mouth, and then he whimpered as two more jets shot forth. He could feel as Dean's throat muscles contracted to swallow all of it, and he balked when Dean's tongue swathed the underside of his dick to nurse out the final drops. When Dean was sure that Justin had finished, he slowing let go of the wizard's ass, pulled back off his dick, and let his hips sink back onto the comforter. Justin crumpled limply on the bed, breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Beads of sweat collected around his pecks and navel. Dean stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand, and adjusted his bangs.

"Yup, definitely sweetah this time. It's betta to swallow with you, I learned," Dean said nonchalantly. "Like I said, I don' like the mess." He paused. "Was it good for you, Mistah Russo?"

Justin, still a bundle of aftershocks, cracked open an eye to look at Dean. "It was…amazing…Dean," he croaked between breaths. "Thank you."

"No problem, Mistah Russo," Dean said with his signature smile. "This means you'll still be needing my services, right?"

"Yes…Dean…I will," Justin said, still reclined on the bed with his eyes closed. _Forever and ever_. Then, like a pin bursting a balloon, all of the events that led up to this moment came flooding back to Justin's memory. _Twenty four hours. That's all the time that I have here_. He sat up, his now flaccid dick flopping back down to its normal position.

"Dean!" he called out. Dean had already crossed to the door of the bedroom, but he turned back when he heard his name. "Yeah, Mistah Russo?"

"Can you come back in the morning?"


End file.
